Good Intentions, Poor Decisions

Sometimes my good intentions when a young boy were not appreciated by my neighbors. My father loved “mud” catfish. We would drive out to the Jordan Narrows, approximately eight miles from home, and catch catfish by the dozens. We would place the fish in a burlap bag when we were ready to head for home. When we arrived home there were always a number of the catfish that were still alive. One time I decided to take the fish that were alive and put them in all the neighbors’ fish ponds. I also planted the fish in a small pond in Memory Grove. Unfortunately my neighbors did not appreciate my putting catfish in with their gold fish. I thought that I was helping all concerned: the fish lived and my neighbors got catfish in their ponds. So much for good intentions.

Christmas is always an exciting time when we were young. I knew my parents always hid our Christmas gifts somewhere in the house. I grew up during the economic depression years and was limited in the number of gifts Santa would bring me. I do remember the time that I found a bow and arrow set that my parents planned to have Santa give me for Christmas. I proceeded to string the bow and pull back the string playing like I had an arrow I was shooting. Suddenly the bow snapped. I took all the money I had saved in my piggy bank, bought a new bow, discarded the old broken one and replaced with a new one. On Christmas morning; I looked surprised a getting a bow and arrow set. I didn’t tell my parents what I had done until many years later.

I learned early in life the good intentions are not always appreciated by your parents. We were on a picnic with my cousins. Ruth Erskine and I are about the same age so we played together at all family gatherings. On this occasion Ruth and I overheard a conversation of our parents. Both my father and Uncle George were concerned about having enough gasoline in the car to get home. Ruth and I, at a very young age, understand only that the gas tank was almost empty. To alleviate our parents concern we found an empty can and filled the gas tank up with water from the stream. Wrong thing to do. They had to push the car out on the road and coast down the canyon road to a service station. Then they had to empty the tank and replace the water with gasoline. Every time the Arsines and the Whites got together this story was told. So much for good deeds.

I am not an expert in plants. I am not even knowledgeable about plants. I am, however, very well acquainted with one species...the stinging nettle. Like many of my experiences in early childhood I learned about stinging nettle in a way that I will never forget. We were having a picnic up one of the local canyons. I had to go to the bathroom and in my youth restrooms were not always available. The standard procedure was to climb up on the hillside away from people and select your own toilet. Unfortunately, not only did I lack an improved toilet but I forgot to bring some toilet paper with me. Searching for alternatives I found a green plant close by that would in emergency situations substitute for toilet paper. Lesson learned—do not use stinging nettle in place of toilet paper. It is not named “stinging” for nothing. I can now identify stinging nettle wherever I may be.